


Can you feel it kicking in

by CluelessFangirl



Category: This Is Where I Leave You (2014)
Genre: Creampie, Dirty Talk, F/M, Fingering, Hand Kink, Oral Sex, Riding, Rough Sex, Smut, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:22:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25056904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CluelessFangirl/pseuds/CluelessFangirl
Summary: You and Philip Altman have been dancing around each other for months. Not anymore.
Relationships: Phillip Altman/Original Female Character(s), Phillip Altman/Reader, Phillip Altman/You
Comments: 7
Kudos: 48





	Can you feel it kicking in

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy the filth y'all, it's my gift to you!

You’re bent over behind the bar, tapping a keg, when you hear the familiar voice.

“Well damn sweetheart, you know how to greet a man” There’s a smirk audible in his words, and you know he’ll look so smug when you turn around, so you shake your head and finish what you’re doing before you straighten up and turn to him. Sure enough, his full mouth is twisted into a smirk as he meets your eyes, and you make sure he sees the eye roll you shoot him.

“Hello to you too asshole”

“Oh, is that any way to speak to your favourite customer?”

“You know you’re not my favourite, you don’t tip well enough for that” He laughs at that, and you laugh back, reaching up to grab a glass to make his drink. He’s here often enough that you don’t even have to ask what he wants, and he deliberately hands you a $20 note and tells you to keep the change, clearly thinking he’s going to sweeten you up with one big tip. He winks at you as you pocket the change, and then laughs at your retreating back as you give him the finger over your shoulder, already heading off to serve someone else.

It’s friendly, flirty, and never serious. That’s how things always are between you and Philip Altman, back and forth that never fails to make you smile, but never goes further than that. You know how attractive he is, obviously, you’re not blind. The first time he’d walked in, all long legs and cheeky eyes and deep voice, you’d been seriously considering taking him home. You’re no stranger to a stranger in your bed, but you like to get a read on a man first, so you’d kept an eye on him over the evening. He’d flirted with most everything on legs, and you’d found it funny to watch, enjoying knowing you weren’t the only shark in the bar that night. Once you realised what a player he was you’d pretty quickly abandoned ideas of taking him home, you didn’t need the trouble and you enjoyed the chase too much to go for such easy prey. But when he’d returned to your bar night after night, always ordering the same thing and flirting his way through the room, he’d earned your begrudging respect. Once he’d caught you at your game, watched you survey the room and choose a companion from the crowd, watched you keep them on the hook until closing, had been the last one to leave the bar except for you and your new friend, he’d understood the two of you had a lot in common. You’d winked at him that night, as you locked the door behind him, and he’d saluted you in a gesture of mutual understanding, realising that you were an awful lot like him. The next time he’d come in, he’d nodded at you, told you “I always knew there was a cold-hearted slut in you”. You’d laughed, shrugged and hadn’t bother to deny it. Since then, the two of you have turned it into a sort of competition, a friendly rivalry developing as you both found a night’s company at the bar, betting drinks or tips on whether you’d strike out or not. You’re not sure he’d ever considered you the way you considered him, but it didn’t matter, because you knew better than to get involved with Philip. Something told you that if you did, it would end messy, and that wasn’t your style at all.

Sure enough, months had gone on, and you and Philip had bonded over shared experiences and a mutual desire to avoid entanglements. You had his number, somehow, and texted sometimes, but you never saw each other outside of the bar, like it was some unspoken rule you were both hesitant to break. In the bar it was easy to keep it light, keep it casual, to never stray from the cheeky friendship you’d developed. You knew where your boundaries were and you weren’t about to cross them, even if it meant missing out on Philip’s supposedly legendary cock. (You’d heard girls talk about it, and you were curious, of course, you’re only human, but you shut down that train of thought as soon as it appeared)

Things had gone on like that just fine, and then his father had died. He’d been dating his psychiatristist for a while by then, and you knew that was a recipe for disaster – you’d told him as much and he’d toasted you as he’d said “worth it though”, and that had been that. You knew he wasn’t exactly relationship material, evidenced by the fact that he still came to the bar every now and then, girlfriend be damned, and he didn’t always go home alone. You didn’t judge, you weren’t a saint by any stretch of the imagination, and he was big enough to handle his own problems. But then he’d taken her home for the funeral, and when he came back, nothing was the same.

You’d gotten the odd text from him while he’d been gone, and something had been wrong but you couldn’t put your finger on exactly what. You figured Philip didn’t need you to mother him, he had a real mother for that, even if she was more likely to psychoanalyse him and write books about his childhood obsession with his dick. So you didn’t ask what was up, didn’t question it when he told you the psychiatrist had left him. You just assumed he’d come back and work his way through your bar, like always, and he’d be fine.

You couldn’t have been more wrong.

When he came back, everything was different, and yet everything was the same. He was still the same Philip, still as flirty and cheeky and gorgeous. But he was also changed, somehow. The first night, you barely noticed. He came in as always, sat at the bar and chatted to you for a bit, until your attention was distracted by another patron. It wasn’t till you thought about it later, lying in bed with a nameless man pulling on his trousers to leave, that you realised Philip hadn’t taken anyone home. Hadn’t even looked at any of the women who tried to get his attention all night. Weird, but you didn’t think anything of it. Not the first time. Not even the second time.

The third time, you thought it was odd. So the next time you saw him, you asked him what was up.

“I guess I just outgrew it” You felt a little hurt, was that supposed to be a dig at you?

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You realised your tone was maybe a little snappy, but you couldn’t quite reign it in.

“I just… I’m tired of being like that. I’d rather be alone than sleep with another woman who won’t remember my name a week later”

“Wow, your shrink really got in your head huh?”

“A little. But it was more… being home, seeing everyone and their lives now. It was… I don’t know when I became like this, but I think I’m done with it.”

“So what, you’re gonna settle down now? You’re done slutting around and you’re just gonna settle down?”

“No, probably not. I’d have to have someone to settle down with.”

“You’ll find someone. You’re a catch, Philip Altman.” You felt an odd twinge in your chest as you said it, as you thought about the possibility of seeing him serious about someone, watching him fade from your life as he found a woman to spend his life with, to love him the way he’s probably never experienced. You knew if you thought about it too long you’d crack the careful wall you’d put up in your head and heart, so you pushed it down, squashed those thoughts behind the wall and refused to let them grow in your mind. You smiled at him, turned away to pour drinks and clear your head, and missed the look he gave you.

He kept coming to the bar, maybe more than before even. Every night he sat at the bar, sipped his drink, and politely declined the advances of the women who approached him. You raised eyebrows at him plenty of times, but he only ever smiled at you, raised his glass. He chatted to you whenever you were free, and you found yourself taking someone home less and less. You weren’t quite sure it had been a conscious decision, didn’t even remember when it had started, but gradually you realised that it had been weeks since you’d taken anyone home from the bar. You kept getting distracted by Philip, by his laughs and jokes and the way his eyes seemed to follow you around the bar. You’d begun to wonder if there wasn’t something behind it… but that was dangerous, a sure way to get hurt, so you turned away and focused on work, not on the eyes you could feel burning into your back.

It all came to a head one evening, when you least expected it. Philip hadn’t come in that night, and you couldn’t quite decide if you were relieved or disappointed. Instead, you spent the evening flirting with a stranger. He wasn’t quite tall enough, hair not quite dark enough, thighs not quite thick enough… not that you were comparing him to anyone. Of course not. You were just getting ready to close up, enjoying the feeling of the man’s eyes on your ass, and trying to remember whether he said his name was Mark or Matt…. Not that it mattered when you’d be kicking him out in a couple of hours anyway. You heard the door open, and you turned to tell whoever it was that you were shut, wouldn’t be serving them… and there he stood.

Philip Altman didn’t often look angry, but when you looked in his eyes right then you were sure that was what you were seeing. His eyes were blazing, his chest was heaving and his hands were clenching into fists by his side. His gaze was flicking between you and Mark/Matt, and he looked pissed as hell.

“Philip, what are you doing here?”

“I’ve had enough. I’m not doing this anymore.”

“Okay, care to tell me what this is?”

“This!” He gestured to Mark/Matt, who was looking increasingly like he wanted to run out of the nearest door and never look back. “Watching you take home men like this! Watching you go home with other people! I’m done”

“Er, Philip, I don’t know what you’re talking about”

He opened his mouth to say something, god knows what, but Mark/Matt interrupted.

“I think maybe I should get out of here… this looks like, well, none of my business” And with that he was gone, and you couldn’t quite find it in yourself to care. You and Philip stared at each other as Mark/Matt left, and you could feel the tension in the room ramping up. You felt your chest get tight, wondering if maybe, just maybe, you might not be able to ignore it all anymore. Maybe this was going to be the moment you’d been trying to avoid. Maybe things were about to get messy and unpleasant.

You stood there, waiting for Philip to say something, anything, to make things clear. He took a long minute, caught his breath and started to pace for a minute. He didn’t settle till he’d pulled a cigarette from the pack he pretended he didn’t have, and had taken a drag. Then he settled in his usual seat at the bar, fixed his golden eyes on you and began to speak.

“I’m not interested in one-night stands anymore. I’m done with that. And I know you are too. Or you should be. I’m sick of watching you take home men who don’t give a damn. You don’t care about them, and you know it.”

“Yeah, that’s kind of the point. Less mess that way.”

“Mess can be good. It could be good… if it were you and me”

You were fairly sure the noise of your walls crumbling down was audible to the both of you. How could it not be? How could such a monumental shift in the fabric of reality not cause some sort of sound or effect or something? Everything you’d kept locked away was suddenly rushing to the forefront of your mind, smacking you over the head in a way that was impossible to ignore. It was like the first moment you’d seen him, only this time you allowed yourself to look, really look.

You took him in from head to toe, letting yourself appreciate all the little things you’d forced yourself to discount before. His hair, shiny and gorgeous and so desperately needing fingers running through it. His eyes, softer than they had any right to be as they gazed into yours. His dimples, invisible now but you knew they’d come out full force if he smiled, and god his smile… it always took your breath away. His strong shoulders, his thick arms, god he could pick you up so easily if he wanted, could just lift you up and carry you off. His height, towering over you in a way that should have been intimidating but had only ever made you feel safe. His chest, the smooth planes that you knew lay beneath his shirt, just waiting to be touched, to be kissed. His long legs, thighs so thick and perfect for riding, thighs you wanted to settle between, to kneel between. His hips, slim and perfect and with so much power that you knew lurked beneath the surface. And then there were the rumours, the awed whispers of girls who’d experienced _Philip Altman’s cock_ … you could have it, you knew, if you just asked. All you had to do was ask.

But there was no going back. If you did this, it couldn’t just be for one night. Philip had said as much, made it clear, and right now you understood why. It would burn all your bridges, the carefully built bonds you’d worked on together for months, and if you did it, you could never take it back. If you asked for what you wanted, you had better mean it. You had better want Philip, all of him, for as long as he’d have you.

He was still staring at you, and it could have been a minute or an hour that you’ve been caught up in your thoughts, but all you could see was him. His eyes, boring into yours, waiting for you to say something, to accept or reject him. You felt your heart beating a mile a minute, could feel shivers down the back of your neck. It was a hell of a decision you had to make… but when you thought about it, you knew there was never really any decision at all. It was always going to be this.

Philip seemed to see it in your eyes, because you both began to move at the exact same time. You crashed towards each other, hands reaching for one another, desperate in a way you’d never felt before. You met in the middle, immediately locking your arms round his shoulders, one hand reaching into his hair and fisting tight, refusing to let him go now that you’d finally got your hands on him. His mouth against your felt like a brand, searing away all thoughts of anyone else, claiming you completely as if you’d never even looked at another man. He kissed dirtily, open mouthed and relentless, consuming you, and you were all too happy to be consumed by this man. He had his hands on your face, cupping your jaw and holding you to him, one thumb resting across your throat as he devoured you. Your head was spinning, your last breath long forgotten in the whirlwind of heat and desire that Philip provoked in you.

Eventually he pulled away, and his eyes on yours felt like chains, like you couldn’t walk away if you wanted to. Thank god you never wanted to walk away from him.

“Are we really doing this?”

“Yeah. I’m in.”

“For the long haul?”

“For as long as you’ll have me Philip. Fuck the mess, let’s do this.”

He smirks at you, and you suddenly realise how incredibly powerful he is, how all those poor girls had felt caught in his orbit. And of course, they were girls, they couldn’t handle this. Not like you could. You smirk back, because you know that you can take everything he dishes out and give it back just as good.

“Oh babygirl, it’s going to get messy alright” You can feel your panties soak through, the anticipation killing you. Luckily you don’t have to wait much longer – you can’t help but grab him, hauling him through the door behind the bar, into the backroom and then up the stairs to your apartment. Benefits of owning a bar, you think happily, not for the first time.

He’s right behind you on the stairs, hands on your ass, and you can’t help but notice how huge they are, how they span the full width of your waist, how they cover you and push you, urging you to move quicker.

When you make it into the apartment, it’s frenzied. There are clothes flying everywhere as Philip rips your top over your head, hands burning their way across your torso, cupping your breasts where they’re still trapped in your bra. You’re trying to make it to your bedroom, but you’re preoccupied by Philip losing his shirt. His chest is just as perfect as you’d thought, and you yearn to bite him, to leave your mark on him. He reaches for you the second he’s got it off, hands fixing in your hair as he kisses you deeply, groaning into it as he feels your nimble fingers start to pull at his belt. You manage to get it off, and the two of you crash against the wall, stumbling over rugs and discarded clothes, not caring for a second about anything but each other.

Suddenly you’re flipped and before you can work it out your back is against the wall, Philip pressed up against your front, so tall above you. He’s grinding into your core, his belt long gone and his jeans undone, and you can feel the hard length of him pressing just right, digging your jeans into the perfect spot. You moan as you grind back, moving with him as you start to lose your mind at the feel of him, at thoughts of how he’ll feel inside you. He starts kissing down your neck, nipping and licking at you as he goes, stopping to lavish attention on the spot where your neck meets your shoulder, his hands pressing you back into the wall to hold you still. You’re burning up, desperate for more but not in your right mind enough to ask for it. You can hear your own moans, wanton noises that you’d be ashamed of if this was anyone else, but it isn’t, it’s Philip, and all you can do is curse as he makes you forget everything else.

He pulls his hips away from yours, smirking at your noises of protest, reaching for the button on your jeans and staring into your eyes as he undoes them. You can feel the tension growing again, the anticipation building because you know that what comes next is going to be unforgettable, one way or another.

He pulls your jeans open, yanks them down your legs, and you nearly fall at his enthusiasm, letting him pull the material off your ankles, whimpering as he presses kisses to your calves and then moves up to your thighs. You’re not sure when you started saying his name, but you like the result when he groans against your panty-clad core, his hot breath making you shudder.

“That’s it babygirl, gonna make you scream it, gonna wreck you” You can’t do anything but whine frantically, nodding as words abandon you. Philip has got it covered though, as he peels your panties off and swears at what he sees. Your knees nearly give out from under you when he rubs at your pussy, two fingers sweeping through the slick you’ve been working on ever since this started.

“Fuck, that’s it, such a good girl, so wet for me. Gonna make you feel so good baby” He’s already on his knees, but he shifts and suddenly he’s on his back, pulling at your thighs so you’re hovering over his face, and you can’t help but mewl when you realise what he’s doing.

He’s lying on his back in the middle of your sitting room, with you barely holding yourself up above him, and his hands grip your ass tight, squeezing it and using it as leverage to pull you closer to his mouth. His eyes are locked on yours, and you can’t look away even as his tongue darts out to lick a long stripe from your hole to your clit, circling and repeating the motion until you’re closing your eyes and moaning long and deep. He grunts in response, and you feel his hands tense on your ass, pulling you as close as he can, encouraging you to grind on his mouth, and god what an invitation. All sensible thought is lost to you, fled from your mind as you work your hips and rub across his sinful lips. He’s working wonders beneath you, and you realise that maybe there are a few upsides to going for a man who sure as hell knows what he’s doing. Your hands are tight in his hair and every time you pull too hard you feel Philip’s body tense and his moans reverberate across your clit. He’s almost nibbling at you now, driving you crazy as one hand leaves your ass, moving round to circle your desperate cunt, teasing and never quite pushing in.

“Please, oh god Philip please, need it, I need it” you realise you’re babbling, in some corner of your mind that’s not quite been overtaken by lust, but you don’t care, especially not when it gets you what you want.

Philip sinks one long finger into your clenching heat, so slow it’s torturous and yet you whimper anyway. He waits until it’s knuckle-deep, as deep as it’ll go, before he sucks your swollen clit into his mouth, torments it with his clever tongue and curls his finger at the same time, listening to your moans rise in pitch. He waits until the perfect moment, and then there’s another finger alongside the first, and it’s glorious, just right, like nothing you’ve ever felt and you wonder why until you realise it’s because it’s _him._ It’s Philip beneath you, not another nameless face that you’ll forget as soon as they turn away, instead this is Philip, cheeky, flirty, funny, Philip. The man who makes you smile, who never judges you, who helps you lift kegs when it’s been a long shift, who lets you complain about shitty customers and who winks at you as he leaves. This is Philip and nothing will ever be as good with anyone as it is with him. It’s the last conscious thought you manage before your orgasm slams into you, sweeping you off your feet and setting you adrift for god knows how long. You ride Philip’s face, chasing the sweet feeling of ecstasy as he moans beneath you, working you and letting you fly higher and higher until you’re crashing down, pulling back from his mouth with a moan and finally opening your eyes to stare at him.

You’re not sure you’ve got words to say, but it doesn’t matter, because he’s shifting you back, thick hands wrapped around your thighs until you’re in his lap and he’s sitting up, claiming your mouth again and you’re leaning into it, legs still shaking as you come down from your release. You want him so much, and you realise you’re pawing at his jeans, pushing them down along with his boxers, shaking legs holding you up just enough to get his trousers off, to get rid of the last barrier between you. As soon as he realises what you’re doing he’s scrambling to cooperate, just as desperate as you are, and suddenly there’s nothing between you anymore. You’re almost nervous. This really is the point of no return. But it’s Philip, and when he looks up at you again, clearly assessing whether you still want this, you know you don’t want to go back. You need this, want it more than anything. You want him and you don’t care what happens afterwards.

“You sure?” His tone is gentle, and you know he’d let you back out now with no guilt, no disappointment, if you wanted to.

“You promised me messy, Philip. Give it to me.”

He smiles up at you, all dimples and warm eyes, far too sweet for the moment, and you’re overwhelmed with the rush of affection you feel for this giant idiot.

“Okay baby, but we need to get a condom”

“Shit.” Your head thunks down on his chest, and you feel him sigh through his nose when he realises what that probably means.

“You don’t have any do you?”

“Nope”

“Goddamn it. Me neither.” You could cry, honestly, the idea of not getting his cock inside you is actually heart-breaking. You want it so bad you can feel the need bubbling up in your chest, and it must make you crazy because you hear yourself talking before you’ve even processed the thoughts.

“Are you clean?”

“What?”

“Are you clean?”

He pauses, and you can feel his eyes on you. “Yeah. I haven’t slept with anyone since the funeral.”

“You have to know how fucked up that is” He huffs a laugh, and you feel his chest shake with it.

“Yeah, I know. But what about you?”

“I’m clean, what are you-“ You look up accusingly, but he interrupts before you can get mad.

“That’s not what I meant”

“Oh. I’m on the pill” You can see him searching your eyes for any hint of reluctance, and when he finds none, he leans up to kiss you. It’s not as filthy as before, almost sweet in its hesitance and gentleness. You love it, almost as much as the all-consuming kisses he’s given you so far, and you kiss back enthusiastically. It slowly starts to deepen, and you don’t even realise you’re grinding on his dick until he throws his head back and groans.

“Fuck princess, you’re gonna kill me. Feels so good.”

He’s right, it feels incredible. You haven’t yet pulled away to see his cock, but you can feel it’s hot and heavy and so thick, splitting your folds as you rub along it, slicking it with your wetness. It twitches beneath you, and you know Philip is just as desperate as you, needs it just as bad as you. But you could never miss an opportunity to mess with him, so you reach back, position him just at your entrance, and slowly circle your hips, letting him stretch you open just barely but not sink in.

He’s whimpering before long, hips clearly desperate to buck up but he’s controlling them like a good boy, behaving just for you. He’s begging you almost, whines and curses leaving his lips as he loses his control underneath you. You feel powerful, desired, almost high with it, and it’s that, more than his begging, which convinces you to sink your cunt down on his length.

It splits you nearly in two, and you have to fight to keep your composure, not willing to let Philip see just how thoroughly he’s ruining you. Not yet at least. Not that it would matter, because his eyes are screwed shut, his mouth hanging open in silent pleasure as his hands grip your hips tight enough to bruise. His breath is coming in short, sharp pants, almost laboured, as if he can’t manage to function right now. You love knowing you’re doing this to him, and you slowly lower yourself until he’s buried to the hilt inside you. He’s thick, and so goddamn long, filling you up and scraping across your walls in a way that is just the right side of painful. You relish it, the feeling almost bringing tears to your eyes. No one has ever felt this good, nor will they ever. This is it, you think, it’s never going to get better than this.

You drop your palms to his chest, give yourself a second to breath as you watch Philip slowly return to himself. He’s still panting, he’s still tensing beneath you, but he’s got his eyes on you again, and as soon as he has, you start to ride him. Long, slow drags up and down his perfect cock, and you swear you can feel every vein and ridge.

“Jesus fucking Christ, princess, you’re so tight” You smirk at him, forcing yourself to stay calm and collected even when you’re dying to scream and thrash on his cock, and speed up just a little.

“You okay there babe?” Your tone is cheeky and you half expect him to bite back, but he whimpers, hips jerking and fingers flexing on your hips.

“You’re evil, woman you’re gonna be the death of me” You don’t think he minds too much, especially when you take the time to stop with his dick hilted inside you, as far as it’ll go, and circle your hips, grinding and rolling your hips until he’s writhing beneath you, moaning and begging for more. You have mercy on him, ride him steadily until you’ve built up a good pace, and you can feel your orgasm building inside you. It’s close, but you need something else to push you over the edge.

“Philip, look at me.” He does, so good for you, and you caress his face gently, without ever breaking your rhythm.

“I want you to rub my clit, and make me cum. Can you do that?”

“Yeah, nggggg, god, yeah” He’s already reaching for you, obedient, when you speak again.

“When I cum, I want you to roll me over and make me scream. Think you can do that too?” His eyes light up, and his smirk is back, even if it is short lived and soon replaced with a moan.

“Yeah, I can do that, fuck babygirl” And he does. He rubs at your clit until your rhythm starts to falter, your hips bucking desperately as you near your orgasm, your moans starting to break through the façade you’d held in place. He’s watching you so intently, his fingers working magic as he finally allows his hips to thrust up into you, helping you over the edge and staring at you enamoured as you fall. You plummet, in freefall for several moments of pure bliss as he works you through and you cum moaning him name again.

And just like that, your dominance is subsumed by his, and he rolls you over, almost viciously fast, and you’re underneath his solid torso, trapped beneath his weight and pinned by his hands. Your legs automatically wrap around his waist, and he readjusts until his tip is resting at your entrance. One of his hands is beside your head, holding his weight as he hovers above you, and the other comes up to your chest, pinches your nipple as it passes, and you keen and arch into him. He chuckles, and you realise you’ve lost all control of the situation. You can’t bring yourself to care. Philip’s hand comes to rest across your collar bone, his thumb stroking across your throat, and your breath catches at the thought of the power he holds right now. He looks in your eyes, and you can see he knows exactly what you’re thinking. He licks his lips, looking at you like he’s about to break you, and you welcome it. Truthfully, you’d probably thank him and ask for more.

He stares at you for a second more, and you realise he’s waiting for you to ask for it. He just wants to break your pride, or perhaps he just wants to affirmation. Either way you’re not too proud to beg for what you want, especially when you know it’ll be worth every second.

“Philip. Please. God please I need it I need it so bad, give it to me, fuck me please god please” Your mouth is running, and the look on his face is smoldering, burning into you with each second. His thumb swipes across your throat again, and he smiles.

“That’s it angel, I’ll give you what you want. You just had to ask”

With that, he drives into you. His cock settles back into you in a slide that feels never-ending. The cold floor is digging into your back, and you’re fairly sure your hair is tangled in the buckle of his discarded belt, but you don’t give a shit because Philip Altman is sinking his cock so deep into you that you can practically taste it in your throat. He doesn’t stop until he’s nestled so far into you that you think you might pass out, and you’re already quivering beneath him, held still by his hand and the weight of his gaze, impaled on his perfect dick as you shiver and beg.

Finally, god, finally, he starts to thrust. It’s heaven, too good to be real, and his grunts are like music to your ears as he rams into you steadily. He’s going just slow enough to drive you mad with need, and he knows it, but it’s so good you can’t form the words to tell him to speed up. Each thrust bumps up against your sweet spot, nudging but not rubbing enough to push you off that cliff, and you know how insanity feels now. His eyes are fixed on you, taking in every second as he pulls you apart piece by piece, and you feel like you’re losing yourself in him, in the drag of his cock against your walls and the wet noises your cunt makes as he presses into you.

“So good, goddamn. You take it so well. Knew you would. Knew you could handle me. You’re so good babygirl, so good for me” His praise only pushes you higher, and you whine at him, petulant and needy.

“Oh, you need more? Is that it? Do you need more angel?” You nod desperately, urging him on by bucking your hips into his and squeezing your hand around his wrist. He smirks at you again, for the millionth time and god you could never get sick of that face, not when it’s looking down at you and you know it’s the calm before the storm. He leans down, kisses your forehead so tenderly, so at odds with what he’s doing to you, and then he grabs your hands, captures both of your wrists in one huge hand, as if it isn’t even hard for him.

He settles your hands above your head, stretches you out beneath him like a banquet to be consumed, and then he’s down on his elbows, and you know better than to move your hands, even if he hasn’t told you that you can’t. He brushes the hair out of your face, holds you so you’re staring up at him, and leans close to growl at you.

“Hold on tight princess” You’re not sure what the hell you’d hold on to, but you don’t have time to worry for long because suddenly he’s pounding into you with a speed and ferocity that have you screaming. Your throat is agony but you barely notice as he rails you, holding you close as he works you over like you’re nothing more than a toy to him, a possession he wants to utterly ruin, ready to discard afterwards. He’s relentless, doesn’t ease up for a second, and your hands are scrabbling at the floorboards above your head. He bends down and latches onto one of your nipples in his mouth, the other caught beneath his thick fingers, rolled and pinched as the other is licked and bitten and sucked and god it’s like a bolt of lightening straight to your core.

Then he’s leaning up, swinging your legs into his hands and up onto his shoulders, never stopping thrusting even once, and his hands fix on your breasts as an anchor more than anything, hammering deep into you with all the not inconsiderable power at his disposal. He’s animalistic, growling and grunting and he’s clearly lost in what he’s doing, just as desperate and uninhibited as you. You’re screaming beneath him, nonsensical pleas and whimpers leaving your lips as he takes what he wants from you.

Trapped beneath him like this, so utterly captive, you’re not sure you could move if he wants you. You’re nearly bent in half and you know it’ll ache in the morning, but no one has ever made it feel like this and you’ll take the pain if it comes with this much pleasure. His thrusts are getting faster, if that’s possible, raw and primal, and you realise he’s close.

“Babygirl you need to cum now.” His voice is about four octaves lower than usual and it’s that more than anything that sends you over the edge. The sound of his voice, deep and hungry, as he tells you to cum, is all it takes. You lose yourself in pleasure, hands finally coming to scratch and claw at his back as you clench around him, your cunt milking him as you white out, screaming and thrashing.

You’re too far gone to notice his hand over your mouth, keeping you quiet as he thrusts deep and hard and so goddamn good inside you. You’re too far gone to hear him praising you, hear his voice break as he nears his own edge. You’re too far gone to feel him empty inside you, bare against your walls as spurt after spurt of cum fills you up. You’re too far gone to notice his weight on top of you as he collapses, completely drained from the energy he’d devoted to fucking you.

When you resurface, rejoin the land of the living, Philip is pulling out of you, and you whimper loudly at the feeling. The emptiness is bad enough but honestly the tenderness is pretty bad, he hadn’t been gentle with you. Not that you’d have been satisfied if he had. He winces too, and when he’s out you watch him watch you, eyes fixed on his cum dripping out of you. He seems to snap out of it after a second, and grabs the nearest available material to wipe you down. It’s your shirt but honestly you don’t care. You’re not sure you’ll ever be able to care about anything other than Philip’s cock again.

Thankfully, Philip is more together than you are. He picks you up, cradling you against his chest as he takes you to your room. He drops you gently on the bed, and you’re suddenly filled with absolute terror at the idea that he might leave. You grab at him, so scared he might not want to stay, but he just follows you onto the bed, pulling the covers over you both and wrapping around you like an octopus. He’s warm, sweaty to be honest, but you don’t care because he’s not leaving. He’s staying. He meant it. You drift off fairly easily after that, exhausted in the best way, and feeling safe and content with his huge frame wrapped around you.

He’s still there when you wake up, and you hadn’t thought anything could compare to fucking Philip Altman, but as you watch the dawn break across his sleeping face, you realise that maybe loving him might just be even better.


End file.
